


Detente

by adjovi



Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 18:51:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18580498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adjovi/pseuds/adjovi
Summary: Post Countrycide-- as the place where Jack and Ianto come to some sort of understanding that eventually leads to their relationship. I wrote this fic over TEN years ago. But, have recently been listening to TW radio shows so.





	Detente

Ianto was gripping the sides of the autopsy table so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. He was trying very hard to keep his head completely still, as any movement caused white-hot bursts of pain to flare up behind his eyes. Currently, he was staring straight ahead at the far wall, thinking that the bit of peeled-off paint had left a shape that looked like a horse’s head. Or maybe a troll. He could hear Jack and Owen up in Jack’s office arguing about whether or not to take him to hospital. Ianto had staunchly refused to be taken in the ambulance back at the Beacons, insisting he was ok and the space should be reserved for those whom Jack had shot. Truthfully, he wanted to put as much distance between himself and the cannibals as quickly as possible. Owen had taped up his bruised ribs on site, but he had put his foot down when Ianto said he wanted to go home, insisting on an examining him back at the Hub, since “Ianto was going to be such a big fucking wanker and refuse medical attention.” Ianto turned a bit to better catch the conversation happening above, letting out a hiss of pain as he twisted his injured side.

 

“I’ll look after him, Owen. It’s no big deal. I’ve been on concussion duty before.” Jack was deliberately making his way towards the autopsy theater, speaking over his shoulder.

 

“Yeah, I’ll just bet you’ll look after him…” Owen groused, shaking his head with not a small amount of disapproval. Ianto kept his face a perfect mask, not revealing that he had even been listening to the conversation.

 

Jack stopped and turned, poking a finger in Owen’s chest, voice just above a whisper. Ianto had to strain to hear what was being said. “Hey. He’s my team member. He got hurt. I’ll take care of him.”

 

Owen didn’t back down, taking a step closer towards Jack. “You’d better. ‘Cause now, he’s my patient. And if I think for one moment you’re endangering his life…”

 

Jack raised his hands in a placating fashion, looking Owen squarely in the eye. “I would never do that, and you know it. Look, I’ll put him up in the sleep quarters we set up off of the locker rooms. I’ll check on him every hour. He’ll be ok.”

 

The impasse lasted a few more seconds before Owen stepped away. “Fine. But, I’m calling in the morning to check on him, and first thing I’m going to ask is whether or not he wants to file a harassment suit against you.”

 

Jack just rolled his eyes theatrically, and began descending into the autopsy room, giving Ianto a big grin as he approached. “Hey. How you holding up?”

 

Ianto swallowed thickly, still careful not to move his head very much, tracking Jack with his eyes. “I’m fine, sir. Just need a bit of rest is all.”

 

“Nope. Sorry Ianto, but sleep really isn’t going to be on the menu for tonight.” Owen nodded at Jack as he came upon them. “Jack’s agreed to look after you.” He tilted his head down, catching Ianto’s eyes, gauging his reaction. When Ianto gave nothing away, Owen just sighed. “So, you can stay here, sleep in the campbed downstairs. Or, we check you into the A&E Unit, and let them watch over you for tonight. Your choice.” Ianto opened his mouth to protest, but Owen cut him off. “Sorry mate. You’ve got a moderate concussion. We let you go home; you could slip into a coma and die.” He smirked at Ianto. “And, I’m going to be fairly tossed if I have to make my own coffee.”

 

Ianto rolled his eyes, the instinctive response to pretty much anything Owen said. “So glad to know you care.”

 

Owen gave him a grin. “He might just survive this yet.” Ianto heard Jack let out a soft chuckle from where he stood to the side. “So, what’ll it be, Ianto? St. Margaret’s or the Hub?”

 

Ianto quickly weighed the pros and cons of both. On the one hand, Lisa’s death had left wounds that hadn’t even begun to heal. He didn’t completely trust Jack, wasn’t sure he ever really would. At least the constant stream of flirting and innuendos, albeit not completely gone, seemed to have staved off of late. Betrayal tended to do that. Apparently, even Jack had his limits.

 

But, as much as he hated to admit it, he kind of missed the subtle and not-so-subtle moments between them. A hand laid on a shoulder, or resting on the back of a neck, absently stroking the ends of hair. Fingers lingering a bit too long over mug handles. Human contact. He needed that now. Not strangers in a sterile room that smelled of anesthetics and ammonia. He looked down. “I’ll stay here.” He felt a blush creep up his neck and blossom on his cheeks, and he doggedly refused to look at either Jack or Owen.

 

“Great. Fine.” Jack bounded up the stairs. “I’ll find you something to sleep in, make sure the bed’s all set up.”

 

Owen stepped in front of him, his voice quiet. “You sure about this, Ianto?” Ianto nodded once, raising his eyes to look at the doctor. “Look, do you want me to stay?

 

Ianto waited a beat before responding. He knew Owen wanted to look in on Gwen, who was injured far worse than himself. The big reveal about their last kiss wasn’t so much a surprise to him. Sometimes it was useful to keep to the shadows. He kept his voice carefully neutral. “No. I’ll be fine.”

 

Owen stared at him, trying to read his expression. Finally, he let out a resigned sigh, shaking his head slightly. “Right. Well, the first sign, and I mean the first sign of nausea or dizziness, you let Jack know, ok? He’s going to be waking you up every hour, asking you questions, checking for disorientation.” He shined a small penlight into each of Ianto’s eyes. “Going to piss you right off, I’d imagine.” Owen sounded almost cheerful at the prospect. He drew the flashlight side-to-side, then up and down, encouraging Ianto to follow with his eyes. 

 

Jack leaned over the railing of the autopsy bay. “You’re all set up downstairs. I left pajamas and a clean towel out for you.” Ianto nodded once, carefully, not looking up at him.

 

Owen looked up at Jack, then back down. “Right.” He studied Ianto’s face one last time. “I’ll be off, then.” He walked up the stairs, pausing in front of Jack. “You take him to hospital the first sign of anything wonky.” He paused for emphasis. “I mean it, Harkness.”

 

Ianto could practically hear Jack’s smirk. “I’ve got it, Harper.”

 

“And please, do try and behave yourself. The man has recently suffered a brain injury.” Ianto could feel the blush threatening to come back.

 

“So no vodka shots, then? You’re no fun.”

 

“Jack!”

 

Jack just laughed. “Kidding!” Owen remained silent for a few beats, and Ianto knew he was debating the wisdom of leaving him alone with Jack. Ianto was doing some debating of his own at this point. “I’ll take care of him, Owen. I promise.” Jack spoke with such quiet sincerity that Ianto actually believed him. Owen must have, too, because a moment later the alarm rang out as the Hub door rolled open. “I’ll be ringing you first thing in the morning.”

 

Ianto rested his hands on the cold metal, steeling himself before pushing off. He was more unsteady than he had anticipated, and he wobbled a bit as he stood. Jack was there immediately, offering a supporting hand on his elbow. “Easy. I’ve got ya.”

 

Ianto tried to twist away, only causing a grimace of pain to escape his lips. He sagged in defeat against Jack’s side. “Ok.” They slowly made their way out of the autopsy bay and down into the shower room which sat underneath the main Hub. Ianto leaned heavily onto Jack’s side all the while, his head tucked in the crook of his neck. He scented Jack’s hair, which smelled inexplicably of his childhood home, almost, but not quite. “S'nice.” Ianto was vaguely aware his voice was slightly slurred.

 

Jack suddenly tensed against him. “Ianto?” He turned the younger man in his arms, his body taut with tension. “Hey, you feeling ok?”

 

Ianto blinked his eyes several times, trying to clear his mind. “Yeah…I uh.” He took a deep breath, and with some effort, pulled himself off of Jack, taking a step back. “I’m sorry, sir.”

 

Jack gripped him by the shoulders, looking into his eyes, all business, not even a hint of salaciousness there. “Hey, I’m serious, Ianto.” He ducked his head for emphasis. “Do you feel dizzy?” Ianto just gaped at him, feeling a bit flushed from the heat of their proximity. “Do you know where you are right now?”

 

Ianto nodded once, slowly. “The Hub.” His eyes darted around the room. “Actually, a bit underneath it.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, I guess I’m just a bit tired, is all.”

 

Jack nodded at him, rubbing his thumbs in a quick circle over Ianto’s shoulders before dropping his hands and taking a step back. Jack drew his lips into a firm line. “You sure you want to stay here? Maybe I should take you to the hospital.”

 

“I’m fine.” Ianto said a bit too quickly, then amended when he saw Jack about to go on the offensive. “Really. I’m fine.” He gestured towards the showers. “I just need to get cleaned up.”

 

Jack stared at him for a few moments longer, clinically sweeping his gaze over his face, appraising. Time stretched beyond that which was comfortably allowable, and Ianto cleared his throat out of awkwardness, dropping his eyes to the floor. Jack seemed to shake out of it a bit, taking in a deep breath. He was trying to be so careful, reassuring without smothering, almost treating Ianto as if he was a skittish colt. Ianto couldn’t decide if he felt comforted or displeased by this, but decided it really didn’t matter since he was so damn tired. He could think on it later. “Ok." Jack looked down at the campbed, “I laid some stuff out for you.” He gave Ianto a small smile. “You should be all set.” He began walking back towards the stairs, turning to lean backwards against the railing, giving Ianto some space. “I’ll just be upstairs in my office. Call me if you need anything, ok?” Ianto gave him a dismissive nod, and Jack straightened as if to make his way back over towards him. “I’m serious, Ianto—the minute...”

 

Ianto cut him off, ticking off symptoms on his fingers. “I know, I know. Nausea, dizziness…Owen already read me the riot act.”

 

Jack stared him down, stern Captain-face in place. “I know he’s usually a giant pain in the ass, but he is a good doctor. You’d do best to listen to him. I am not losing another member of this team.” Ianto’s eyes widened at the statement, but he simply swallowed and nodded once. His reaction seemed to appease Jack, who turned to ascend the stairs. “I’ll be back down in a little bit to check on you. Take it easy and try to get some rest.”

 

As soon as Jack left, Ianto moved on automaton, dropping his ruined clothing on the shower floor and stepping under the pounding stream of water. A very scary moment passed as he fought an immediate wave of dizziness, one in which he debated the wisdom of calling out to Jack at least a half dozen times. Luckily, the rational part of his brain eventually switched back on when he realized he had made the water much too hot. As he brought the water to a much more reasonable temperature, he gulped in deep breaths, leaning heavily against the cool, tiled wall. He was inordinately grateful at that moment to have been so fastidious in keeping the mold and mildew away. He stood under the water for a very long time, seemingly unable to wash away all of the dirt, finally slapping the taps off once the water began to run cold and his fingers began to prune. He wrapped himself in the soft towel Jack had left for him and quickly changed into the worn, but clean, sleep clothes. He was pretty sure sleep would be elusive, considering what the day had been like, but he was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

 

The room was steadily getting smaller. Not so much that he’d noticed at first, but the walls suddenly seemed much closer than before, the air thinner. He reached out, trying to keep the slowly collapsing walls at bay, but his fingers scrabbled uselessly for purchase against the cool, slippery surface. Full blown panic began to set in when he recognized the walls were made of metal, and he tried to scream, but no sound would come out. He tried to find an opening, find something soft and yielding, but all he could felt was smooth steel, wrapping around him, squeezing. His hand had found something else, wet and sticky, and when he pulled it back, he saw it was covered in blood…

 

“Hey…hey.” Someone was trying to rouse him, and he fought hard to the surface, kicking his legs against the undertow threatening to pull him back down. “Take it easy. Hey.” He felt something cool brush against his forehead, and he focused on that touch, using it to bring himself back into the light. He gasped a deep breath, like he really had just escaped drowning, and at that moment he was not really aware of anything other than the warm body against his side. He burrowed in, sobs wracking his frame as he clung to the soft and warm form that held him. That yielded to him. “Shh…it’s ok. It’s ok.” Ianto suddenly recognized the voice that was attempting to soothe him and stiffened, sitting upwards. A motion he immediately regretted as a flash of pain shot behind his eyes, causing him to grip the side of his head. “Hey, take it easy. Take it easy.” Again he felt something cool brush against his brow. He gulped in a few unsteady breaths, trying to center himself, pushing himself to sitting. “Hey…you ok?”

 

Ianto kept his eyes closed a moment longer, vaguely aware that his palm was still resting on Jack’s chest. He cleared his throat. “I’m fine.” Another deep breath. “Just…just a bad dream. I’m truly sorry, sir.” He felt Jack run his thumb in a small circle over the back of his hand, which he removed carefully, using it to balance himself against the bed. He opened his eyes, pointedly looking at Jack. “Really. I’m fine.”

 

Jack gave him a cautious smile. “What’s your name?”

 

Ianto rolled his eyes despite himself. Not the best maneuver, considering this caused another brief burst of pain to erupt inside his head. “Indiana Jones.”

 

Jack barked out a quick laugh, shaking his head in feigned disbelief. “Alright, Indy. When’s your birthday?”

 

Ianto took another deep breath. “August 19.”

 

Jack grinned at him, his tone teasing. “Hmm... a Leo. Creative, passionate. loyal. Also, tends to be arrogant, pompous and patronizing. Sounds like you to a tee.”

 

Ianto snorted. “Yes, well. I do what I can.”

 

Jack chuckled softly, casually running his fingers through Ianto’s hair. Ianto closed his eyes, involuntarily leaning into the gesture, but he quickly caught himself, however, sliding further back against the wall. Jack just watched him, keeping his features carefully neutral, silently letting Ianto know the ball was firmly in his court. Nothing would happen here unless Ianto wanted it.

 

Ianto just blinked slowly at him for a few moments before retreating, rolling away and under the covers, presenting Jack with his back. He felt Jack stiffen beside him, and after a long moment, Jack sighed loudly and stood, leaving an eddy of cool air in the wake of his warmth. “I’ll be back in an hour.” His voice was clipped and clinical, betraying no emotions. Ianto nodded noncommittally, further burrowing under the duvet, never turning to face him. He could feel Jack linger in the doorway a moment more before exiting, and Ianto was suddenly filled with a strong pang of regret and self-loathing that he didn’t completely understand. The hot tears that wet the pillow beneath his face were something of a surprise as well. He rationalized that he really shouldn’t be shocked that his emotional responses were all scrambled. Mere hours ago, he had been tenderized with the business end of a baseball bat. He shivered involuntarily, snuggling deeper under the blanket, unable to shake off the feeling of loss, but sleep finally crept in and pulled him under.

 

It was so dark, where he was. So hot and so dark. He could hear them, just on the other side of the pain, just barely there, but couldn’t reach out, couldn’t let them know where he was. If only he could scream…but he couldn’t get his mouth wide enough, couldn’t make the sounds come out. It was then that he realized his mouth was full of dirt…

 

Ianto thrashed blindly out towards the hands that were restraining him, hitting something with a satisfying crunch. Someone was clutching at his hands, trying to pin him down, and he opened his eyes to find it was Jack. Jack, with a split lip. Who was trying to console him. “Hey…hey. Easy. Ianto! Come on….settle down. It’s ok…settle down.” Ianto finally stopped struggling, just stared up at him, eyes wide and breathing hard. Jack sagged a little, letting go of one of his hands and swiping at the blood on the corner of his mouth. He let out a strangled chuckle and shook his head. “Nice right hook you got there.” He inclined himself towards the side of the bed, taking some of his weight off of Ianto, mindful of his injuries. “You ok now?” Ianto just continued to stare up at him, keeping both hands pinned above his head, even though he was no longer being restrained. “Hey, Ianto...you in there?”

 

Ianto blinked rapidly a few times, getting his bearings, then yanked himself painfully up to sitting, Jack’s warm hand on his arm for support. Whatever the terrors the dream had brought were quickly fading, replaced by horror and humiliation. He swallowed thickly. “Did I hurt you?” He turned his head, searching Jack’s face.

 

“Nah—not at all.” He gave Ianto an easy grin. “Just gave me more proof that we should reinstate the Torchwood Golden Glove tournaments.” After a beat, he continued softly. “Or, that you would be better suited for fieldwork.” Ianto couldn’t help the involuntary shudder that passed through him at the suggestion, and Jack looked contrite and quickly attempted to soothe, running his hand up and down his arm, landing on his shoulder and drawing small circles there. “Sorry. I’m very sorry, Ianto.” He sighed, sounding so weary. “I was just trying to get you more involved with the team…make you feel like you mattered.” Ianto glanced at him sidelong, taken aback by the defeated expression he saw there. “And yet again, as you will quickly discover with most things I attempt, it all ended in a cockup of epic proportions.”

 

Ianto continued to watch him for a few long moments before finally speaking. “Why?” 

 

Jack hand stopped moving on his shoulder, and he turned to face him, brow crinkled with confusion. “Why what?”

 

Ianto licked his lips, eyes trained on his lap, courage failing at the last moment. “Don’t you have to ask me about my goldfish and where we went on family holidays?” It was a dismissal, a diversion from talking about anything important, anything real, but Ianto turned towards Jack with what he hoped resembled a coy smile. He knew the the minute he saw the pained expression on Jack’s face that this was the wrong thing to do, but, Jack being Jack, he quickly schooled his features into his trademark grin, sighing theatrically.

 

“Right, so tell me what antics you got up to with that goldfish of yours.”

 

Over the next half hour or so, Jack slowly pulled stories from Ianto that included the antics of childhood pets and neighborhood bullies. But then somehow, almost without him noticing, he had progressed to the more intimate details of his life, his sister and her two kids, how rarely he saw his mam these days, and how his dad been a relatively well-respected tailor in Cardiff until he was hit by a drunk driver on his way home from work. He stopped talking abruptly, adrenaline shooting through his veins, panicked that he had revealed too much. God—for so long he had expended so much of his energy to carefully keep the details of his life buried behind impeccable suits, perfect cups of coffee and enigmatic smiles. For what seemed like forever, he had lived in constant terror that his big secret in the basement would one day unwittingly spill out, splitting him open at the seams and ending his whole world. And yet, for the first time in as long as he could remember, he inexplicably felt free of the weight of protecting her. This feeling was short lived, however, quickly replaced with a nauseating wave of grief and guilt, causing him to heave over the side of the bed, grateful there was nothing left to come up. He hauled in great gulping breaths, aware and so very fucking grateful of Jack’s comforting hand on his back. “Jesus fuck!” He muttered, unable to stop himself.

 

“It’s ok, it’s ok.” Jack kept his voice low, assuring, and didn’t move his hand. “You’re ok.” He gently guided Ianto to turn back around, leaning him back against the cool wall. “You’re ok.” He said again, and Ianto wasn’t sure exactly who he was trying to comfort. He studied Ianto for a few moments more, moving his hand to cup the back of his head, gently squeezing. He seemed to come to a decision before speaking. “My dad died when I was twelve. We were attacked, and I…” he trailed off, looking down at his lap before glancing back up, giving Ianto’s neck another squeeze. Ianto just stared back at him. He wasn’t quite sure what was happening here. Why Jack, who was more miserly about the details of his life then Ianto ever had been, had suddenly decided to be in the sharing mood. Jack gave him a tiny, pained smile, then got up from the bed. He cleared his throat. “Well, it looks like you are going to survive the night after all.” He winked down at him. “I’m sure Owen will be thrilled—you know how much he hates instant coffee.” All Ianto could do was gape at him, open mouthed, completely thrown by the mercurial shift he had just witnessed. He was aware that he was missing out on an important opportunity, here, but he couldn’t begin to understand what exactly was happening. Jack gave him another bright smile, well-practiced, the one that most wouldn’t notice didn’t go to his eyes. “Get some sleep. I won’t bug you anymore.”

 

Ianto gawked up at Jack for a few seconds more before his brain caught up with his mouth. “My dad died when I was nineteen.” Jack froze mid-turn, the smile quickly slipping from his face. Ianto swallowed and closed his eyes briefly before continuing. “I was at university. I got so pissed the night before, I wasn’t even aware it had happened. I woke up the next morning next to a girl whose name I can’t even fucking remember now, with eleven missed calls on my phone.” He dropped his head, felt the bed dip as Jack slid back beside him and place a hand on his wrist. It was all about touch with Jack. He took a shuddering breath. “I came back for the funeral, of course, but I didn’t know what to do. My mam, well, my dad always said she was “delicate”, which now I realize is code for bi-polar, well, she couldn’t handle the stress, and she was sectioned before the week was out. Leaving my sister to take care of all the details. My sister, who by the way, was 7 months pregnant at the time. And I fucking left the minute it was all over.” He let out a sob. “I left. I went back to school and after that to London and never even looked back. I hadn’t even come back to Cardiff until I had to.” He knew he didn’t need to explain that one.

 

After a long moment, he heard Jack sigh heavily beside him. “Jesus Christ.” Ianto’s face burned with shame. “So young. God. So fucking young to lose so much.” Ianto’s head snapped up in surprise, almost angry now.

 

“Did you hear what I just said? I left…”

 

Jack cut him off. “You were a boy, Ianto. A child.” He made as if to reach out to touch his face, then thought the better of it.

 

“I could have been a better human being.” Ianto heard the despair in his voice, unable to keep it in check.

 

Now, Jack did touch his face. “That’s always a work in progress. Trust me on that one.” Jack laughed bitterly, then lifted Ianto’s chin, looking him directly in the eye. “If we are forced, at every hour, to watch or listen to horrible events, this constant stream of ghastly impressions will deprive even the most delicate among us of all respect for humanity.”

 

Ianto had no clue. “Shakespeare?”

 

Jack smiled, a real smile this time. “Cicero.” He shrugged. “Sometimes, I have way too much time on my hands. I like that quote, though. It’s a nice reminder of what we are fighting for.” He ducked his head, letting his hand drop from Ianto’s neck, giving him a small chuckle. “See what happens when you let me ramble unchecked? I tend to wax nostalgic.” He winked.

 

“Sir?” Ianto could feel his heart thudding in his chest. Jack turned towards him, expression serious. Now or never. “Why?” Jack just shook his head in confusion, and looked like he was about to interrupt, but Ianto couldn’t stop now. “Why me?”

 

Jack’s eyes were full of mirth, and he chuckled again. “Ah.”

 

“Yes. Ah.” Ianto sighed again. “If I’m not mistaken, and I’m usually not,” which earned him a smirk from Jack, “Torchwood Directive Number One is that any betrayal against the Crown, regardless of intention, is to be met with summary execution.” Ianto sat up, taking another deep breath, gaining strength. “Not Torchwood Directive 345, section A, point 5-double-ee, lodged in between grooming tips and sick day policies. Torchwood Directive Number One.” He was well aware his voice was shaking at this point, but there was no turning back now. “At the very least, I should have been retconned back to my nappies.”

 

Jack just stared at him, and for a moment Ianto thought he wasn’t going to answer, but eventually he did. “I’ll tell you what, Ianto Jones. I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Why he was trusting Ianto with a stapler at this point was beyond his ken, but he decided to keep quiet. “I never wanted to be in charge here.” At Ianto’s questioning look, he waved him off with his hand. “That’s a story for another day. But the point is, I am. Suzie was…” He could hear the pain in Jack’s voice, knew at that moment how heavily that loss rested on his soul. Ianto himself didn’t really feel much at all towards her passing, one way or another, his energies had been focused elsewhere. It hadn’t even occurred to him that her death would have affected Jack. “After she died, it became painfully obvious that I didn’t know her, not really. I couldn’t have if I didn’t know that she was hiding this horrible secret that was destroying her.” He looked up to Ianto, eyes pleading. “I swore I would never make the same mistake again.” His breath hitched. “And, yet…”

 

Ianto felt the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch Jack, this sad, beautiful, broken man who he had used and betrayed and even now was begging his forgiveness, so he did just that. He reached out cupped his hand over Jack’s jaw, startling the other man for a brief moment before he reacted, pressing his cheek into Ianto’s palm. He looked down at Ianto’s lips, raising his eyes almost in question, before closing the distance between them. It wasn’t a kiss of passion, or lust, although the hint of both were there, but more a kiss of reassurance, of comfort. Soft and gentle, lasting only long enough so that Ianto would know he meant it, but not too long that it would lead to something else. He rested his forehead against Ianto’s for a brief moment before pulling away fully, standing up from the bed. He gave Ianto one last small, private smile, a promise of what was there, if he wanted it. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

 

Ianto sat staring at the doorway Jack had exited for a very long time, fingers poised over his lips like he couldn’t exactly parse out what had just happened. What he had wanted to happen. He eventually laid back down, staring at the ceiling for a good long while before deciding he didn’t have to figure that out right now. Concussed was not likely the best state for sorting such things out. His last thought before drifting asleep, following some serious internal debate, was that he was pretty sure he had kissed Jack back.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are love! Thanks for dropping by. Credit for me reposting these from livejournal goes to the lovely and amazing @Rays.


End file.
